


Stole Your Shirt :-P

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, greg just misses his mycroft, so much cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:36:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg can't sleep well when his husband isn't home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stole Your Shirt :-P

Greg rolled over onto his back again to stare frustrated at the ceiling. He huffed out another defeated sigh. He always struggled to sleep when his husband was on one of his super duper top secret ganders around the world but it wasn’t usually so bad that he got absolutely no sleep at all.

Today had changed that fact, though. An utterly rubbish day at work left him with two unsolved cases involving children, an annoying younger Holmes that could not be settled by his live-in doctor, and orders to leave the office and not show his face before 8a.m. the next day. Not that the sympathy of his superior was helping his sleep any.

Greg’s mind wouldn’t stop wandering over the cases he was working and his exhausted body refused to give in. In his frustration he couldn’t get comfortable and he rolled back onto front, face pushed into his pillow. When that still did nothing to help his situation he growled into the cotton and heaved himself up and out of bed.

The Inspector’s feet met the floor and he flexed his toes in the warm carpet as he stood. It reminded him of the cold wooden floor he used to have in his last flat alone. He didn’t miss it. He stepped around the duvet that he had just shoved over the side of the bed in his irritation.

Walking up to the wardrobe in the far corner he tugged his night shirt over his head and chucked it somewhere vaguely to his left. Greg opened the wardrobe and pulled one of Mycroft’s pristine shirts from its hanger. He slipped into it and smiled at the slightly too long sleeves.

Feeling a little better but still in no mood to sleep, Greg made his way out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. He thought perhaps if he had a glass of something - milk, maybe - he would feel less tense; relax a bit.

He did just that. Greg sipped at his glass of milk and collapsed onto the sofa when he reached the living room. He pulled the blanket across him that had been thrown over the back of the sofa. The glass was set aside on the coffee table and Greg huddled under the blanket, his face ducked into the collar of Mycroft’s shirt, the smell of his husband inviting.

He let his eyes drift shut as the sense of home lulled him, finally, into a much needed sleep.

Mycroft, by chance, got home the very same night, his entrance as quiet as possible so as not to wake his beloved at such a late hour. When he slipped into the living room, however, he halted at the sight that met him.

His Gregory was curled up on the sofa snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath. That fact worried him somewhat, the question rising why wasn’t Gregory sleeping in their bed. That is until he noticed the shirt Greg was wearing and the bags under his eyes even in sleep. He deduced the rest.

Mycroft left his briefcase by the door and slid out of his suit jacket as he stepped towards his husband’s still form. He knelt down when he was beside the other man’s head and ran a gentle hand through his partner’s silver hair.

“Gregory.” He spoke softly, attempting to wake the other man but not really wanting to disturb him from such a peaceful slumber. “Gregory, love.”

Greg shifted slightly before scrunching his nose and moaning as he opened his eyes slowly. “My?”

“Yes, love, I’m home. Come to bed.”

“‘Kay.” The older man replied, still half asleep. He rose with the help of Mycroft’s grip under his arm.

Mycroft caught Greg around the waist as he threatened to keel over, swaying unsteadily on his feet as he got to standing.

With Greg leaning heavily against his side, the both of them made it to their bedroom unscathed. The politician tucked Greg under the covers and stripped down to his underwear before joining him.

Greg immediately shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Mycroft’s middle and tucking his head under Mycroft’s chin. He hummed contentedly and pressed his lips to the closest available skin.

“Stole your shirt.” He mumbled blearily and his tongue poked out between his lips, a sleepy attempt at pulling a face. “Missed you. Love you.” Greg breathed sleepily into his husband’s neck before he settled himself back down to sleep.

Mycroft chuckled lightly and pressed his own kiss to Greg’s forehead. “I love you, too. Sleep well, my love.”


End file.
